


Under the Weirwood Tree

by WhiteravenGreywolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Set at the end of episode 2, Theon is best bro, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteravenGreywolf/pseuds/WhiteravenGreywolf
Summary: Before the dead march to Winterfell, Sansa and Margaery have one last thing to do, and they need Theon's help if they want to do this as properly as they can.





	Under the Weirwood Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So basically all you need to know is Margaery escaped the Sept and she went to Winterfell. This story is a lose canon to my other story I'm currently posting, but you don't have to read it to read this one. If you want to, however, it's a crossover between Game of Thrones and The 100. I have an entire series you can check out if you're interested.  
Other than that, I hope you enjoy this story!

Theon was standing by the entrance of the Godswood. Behind him, the chaos of war preparation hadn't slowed down. It seemed to have intensified in those last few hours before the dead surround them. He was dressed for battle already, his old armor displaying a banged-up Kraken. The Godswood had been prepared for battle too, with many torches lit all around the tree, and buckets filled to the brim with arrows beside them.

He heard the sound of snow being crushed behind him and turned around. Sansa was approaching quickly. She was dressed exactly as she had been during the day, except for one detail. She'd changed her usual cape for one made of white wool, with the Stark's direwolf embroidered on it. The gods only knew when she'd had the time to make it, for he had no doubt she had made it, but apparently what he had taken for a split second decision had been planned and prepared for some time already.

“Are you ready?” she asked him.

“Am I ready? I'm not the one getting married again.”

“I hardly call this getting married,” Sansa replied. “I doubt even my parents' wedding was made in such urgency.”

Theon shrugged.

“Shouldn't we wait for Jon?” Theon asked.

Sansa shook her head.

“I didn't ask him to come. We'll officiate ourselves.”

It was going to be a very strange ceremony indeed, but Theon had no doubt he would enjoy it a lot more than the first time he had brought Sansa under the weirwood tree. He looked back at Sansa and nodded. Together they walked to the tree.

* * *

Margaery had been waiting under it for quite some time. She'd looked at every detail of the dark forest around her just to avoid looking straight at the face of the tree. She'd never believed in the Old Gods, but between the dead marching south and her own gods' inability to protect their sanctum, she could at least admit that they had more grasp on their world that she previously thought.

The sound of snow being crushed caught her attention. She looked behind her. Sansa and Theon were coming forward. Even though she had seen her multiple times that day, she couldn't help but admire how beautiful Sansa was. Her long flowing red hair shone brightly under the fire of the torches. She had been Margaery's only warmth since she'd gone North, and Margaery suddenly shivered at the sight of her approaching, head held high and cape lightly dragging snow behind her.

When Sansa and Theon stopped a few feet from her, Margaery realized she had forgotten her text. Sansa had made her rehearse for days now and she had known it by heart, until that moment. Margaery blinked the words on the tip of her tongue. Sansa gave her an encouraging nod, and finally, the words came out of her mouth:

"Who comes before the Old Gods on this night?" she asked, in her most regal voice.

"Sansa of House Stark, who comes to be wed. A woman grown, true born and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods" Theon replied. "Who comes to claim her?"

"Margaery of House Tyrell. Lady of Highgarden, Warden of the South and Lady Paramount of the Reach" Margaery answered. "Who gives her?"

"Theon of House Greyjoy, who was her father's ward."

Once Theon had introduced himself, he stepped aside. Now would have been the part where Margaery's father or brother should have asked the big question. But Margaery was now fatherless and brotherless, and the head of her House, so they had decided she could proceed with the rest accordingly.

Sansa came to stand by her lover and looked at her with a smile. Margaery smiled back, then cleared her throat, trying to remain focused.

“Will you take this woman?” she asked, her hazel eyes finding Sansa's.

“I will take this woman.”

Tradition would have had the groom place his cloak on the bride's shoulders, replacing hers. But Margaery had no cloak with her House's sigil and technically speaking she had no seat of power anymore, and no way to provide for her family. She had been a guest of House Stark for months now. So they had decided to ignored tradition once again. Sansa pulled off her cloak and placed it securely around Margaery's shoulders. Once she was sure the cloak wouldn't slip off, there was still one last step to accomplish.

Together the couple kneeled, and using it as his cue Theon kneeled as well. They all prayed silently for a few long minutes. The silence was only broken by the distant agitation coming from the castle. Sansa prayed this wedding would be her last. Let the gods allow her to marry for love one last time or kill her before dawn, for she would never stand before them as a bride ever again. Margaery prayed for luck, for them to remain together as long as they could, and find a way to make it work after when duty would become their priority again. Theon prayed for them to be happy. He had seen Sansa suffer too much already, and from what he understood, Margaery had been her only reason for happiness in a long, long time. He would rather die than see them broken apart. He would even give his life if it meant they could remain happy.

An unrecorded amount of time passed, and all at once the three of them rose from the snow. Margaery was quick to brush it off her dress. She then looked up at Sansa with a bright smile.

"I've never heard 'four times's the charm' before, but I hope it is true."

Her only reply was a kiss, quick but intense.

“Congratulations,” Theon said as he was already walking away.

“Thank you,” Margaery said.

“Yes, thank you,” Sansa agreed. “I'm so glad you could be here for it.”

"Me too," Theon replied honestly, with a timid smile.

This wedding could not compare to the previous one, he thought. He would remember it till the day he died.

“I'll let you two celebrate, I'll go get a drink in your honor.”

With one last nod to the newlyweds, he walked off. Sansa watched him go until her attention was brought back to her wife, who'd come to encircle her waist with her hands.

“What do you say? Do we have time to celebrate?” Margaery asked, a sly smile on her lips.

Sansa placed her hands on the Stark cloak on Margaery's shoulders, pulling it more tightly around her.

“Well, we have broken so many traditions today, it is time we do honor a few.”


End file.
